Memories in Snow
by whYFeL
Summary: A young village girl remembers her childhood, at the end of the Shogunate...


Greetings, minna. I have this particular story in my mind for almost a year now, and I'm glad I finally get to put it here. I do feel dissatisfied at the final outcome, since I just can't figure out how to word it right… but I leave it to you all to decide. Do I even make sense to you all? I dunno… just please read and enjoy… and don't flame me too hard, ne? And I definitely do not own Rurouni Kenshin, just all the mangas, and a couple of posters.

For those who own mangas no. 19-21, or the OVA, I'm sure this part will make sense to you.

* * *

It is snowing outside, but the chilly weather does not deter the children from playing, and today's game appears to be kite-flying. I sit in peaceful silence just inside the door, watching their attempts to lift the multi-coloured paper they had painstakingly made themselves off the ground with little success, for the wind is not blowing as favourably as it should.

Their shrieks of frustration mixed with laughter somehow brings me back to my own memories as a little girl of eight, living in a small, but relatively peaceful village during the tumultuous era of the Bakumatsu, tethering on the brink of constant war between the allied domains of the Ishinshisi and the Shogunate side of the Shinsen-gumi.

I was too young to fully understand the grim situation, however, lost in the innocence and playful world of childish behaviour. Along with my friends, we would run along the wasted-looking land during summer, with the boys brandishing long twigs, pretending to have mock swordfights. We, the girls, would pick out sides to cheer on, or absorb ourselves in a game of _otedama_ or throwing _temari _(i).

It was in late summer of the first year of Genji when our village received a couple of newcomers, a young newlywed from Kyoto. The young man, who introduced himself as Himura Kenshin, was small-built, with long red hair (which was very unusual) and piercing amber eyes. His handsome face however, sported a scar on his left cheek, a menacing long line, and it never failed to make me wonder where he had received it. And the lady, Tomoe-san, with her shiny black hair and dark eyes, was easily the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

The husband, who was obviously younger than his wife, seemed a little awkward and shy the first few weeks of their arrival, but soon his politeness and his reputation as a competent healer spread around, and he was gradually accepted by the villagers – and us children. Whenever he had the opportunity, he would join us in a game of swordfight, easily deflecting the clumsy swings of my friends, or gathering us around him, enthralling us in war stories or old folklores. We always looked forward to be with him, and his yard became one of our favourite playing spot. And as time went on, he became more open and kind, and I noticed his eyes slowly changed colour to a warm violet.

His wife, however, always struck us as cold and slightly intimidating, never once cracking a smile. She preferred to stay home most of the time, letting her husband do the shopping and running of errands and gathering the herbs. Even when we managed to coax her once or twice to join us, she kept quiet, and her efforts seemed half-hearted, at best.

Initially, their appearance sparked rumours of them being members of the Ishinshisi, especially when some people spotted the young man occasionally having conversation with a couple of suspicious strangers. Once, my father had even forbidden me from going to his house because of the sinister accusations flying around, but my mother had defended Himura-san, saying he was a protector, never once letting any of us coming into harm. After some time – as rumours went – it gradually subsided, though whispers of it still emerged now and then.

As months passed into winter, we became more used to their presence. But on the eve of a snowing New Year, the couple suddenly disappeared without a trace. A few days later, Himura-san returned, all alone, and promptly locked himself inside the house for some mysterious reason, refusing to come out and play with us, even when we called and pleaded him to. We also noticed his wife was no longer seen around the house.

A fortnight later, another stranger was spotted asking directions to Himura-san's house. Nobody knew his reason for seeing Himura-san, but I later heard my father telling my mother that he was one of the top members of the Chosu domain, the main group in the Ishinshisi side.

As usual, that snowy evening we all went to Himura-san to ask him again to come out and help us fly a kite. When I peered inside the dark room, I was surprised to see the stranger sitting by the half-lit fire as well. They seemed to be deep in some sort of a discussion, but on hearing our calls, Himura-san pushed himself up and slowly went to the door, saying something I could only catch the gist of… something about not wanting to kill anymore.

When Himura-san finally emerged from his home, I was startled to see him in such a deplorable condition. He had recently-healed wounds all over his frail body, his clothes were in tatters, and he looked as if he hadn't eaten or sleep in days. But the most noticeable difference was the addition of a fresh-looking scar running from his temple to his jaw, forming a large cross on his left cheek.

That day, he solemnly told us his wife had gone to a place so far away, never to return; and he would also be going away from the village, because he had some important things to attend to. He agreed to play with us for the last time, until dusk had settled over the cold world. For some reason, I could not see his normally kind eyes, hidden as they were under the long bangs of his hair, like a shade pulled over to mask his true feelings. Even when he smiled the usual kind smile, there was no real warmth that accompanied it, making me realized something bad had happened to his family. I was sure the others noticed as well, so that evening, we made extra effort to cheer him up. Though we knew it wasn't enough, he did seem less… sad, as he bid us a soft goodbye for what was to be the last time.

The next morning, when we came early, he was nowhere to be seen, and the house was shut fast. The whole place seemed empty and abandoned, with most of the couple's belongings remained intact. Himura-san had left quietly without saying goodbye...

My memories are rudely interrupted by a cry from one of the girls, as she stomps her feet on the soft, cold snow and demands retribution from another boy. I sigh, shake my head with a wry smile and stand up to see what I can do. Another time, I promise myself, another time I will remember him, and wonder if he has found happiness at long last.

* * *

Short, simple, and not sweet. I really didn't do the story justice. RR, please.

i) Otedama = a game of throwing and catching 5 small pouch filled with stone/seed. There are various ways of playing

ii) Temari = a ball made of cotton/paper and wrapped with wool


End file.
